


Trapped

by fangirlsupreme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Capture, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Tight Spaces, Wolfsbane, pre slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlsupreme/pseuds/fangirlsupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles have been taken captive after an intelligence mission gone terribly wrong. They're trapped together in a cell. With wolfsbane lining the walls and the full moon approaching, Derek is deadset on getting Stiles out before then, but when they're both convinced they need to save each other, how will either of them get out alive?</p>
<p>*Please don't judge based on this sucky summary.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> I sucked so hard writing this summary, but yeah. This is an omegle collaboration. The prompt belongs to them. They wrote as Derek and I wrote as Stiles. It's really just a beginning kind of thing, like things shift between them. There's no actual slash or kissing or anything like that, much to my own dismay.

Derek was slumped back with his shoulders digging in hard to the edges of the cell he and Stiles were both being kept in. To say that the pack's plan to sneak into the new hunter's base and figure out what they'd been planning hadn't gone well was an understatement. Mostly because he and Stiles had landed themselves captured. It was Stiles' fault, considering he hadn't run when Derek had ordered him to. They'd both ended up being knocked out after a struggle, and when Derek had woken up, he found that they'd been stuffed into a small, cramped cell with Stiles slumped against him. Derek frowned and pushed him backwards and off from him, "Stiles." He hissed out to him, urging him to wake, wanting to stretch out, but really there wasn't all too much room.

Being unconscious was less like sleeping than one would think. There was no awareness, no surety in the fact that you would actually wake up. Sneaking into the hunter base hadn't been the best plan in hindsight. He just hoped that they even maybe accomplished their goal with the others who had gotten out. If they'd gotten out. Stiles had known the second he felt his consciousness slipping from him that he wasn't getting out. He groaned, slowly starting to come to. "Fucking Christ," Stiles moaned, a hand coming up to rub his head. His skull still pounded and when he opened his eyes everything seemed too bright and even a little blurry. He probably had a concussion. Stiles blinked his eyes to try and clear his vision, pushing himself into a sitting up position despite how it made his head swim. He could see and feel someone squished into the small cell with him, though he was having trouble making out who it was. "Derek?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

The cell was barely big enough for one person, let alone two, so it was cramped and bright until abruptly it just-- wasn't. The lighting in the cell flickered off, the only lighting coming from the doorway, but Derek could see just fine either way. He shifted back, just body feeling sluggish and tired. He knew that he should've healed already, but he still felt weary and ached, so he figured that wolfsbane must've been involved before he was knocked out to keep him weakened. He growled low in the back of his throat in irritation. He sat up, not being able to do much else, before he was looking over at Stiles. "Are you okay?" he found himself asking because despite how pissed he was, Stiles was the human here and he'd been knocked out along with him. He could've easily been concussed and Derek could tell that Stiles wasn't sounding all too great. "Sit back and don't move too much," he ordered out, trying to keep his voice firm as he started to inspect their cell door.

"Don't let me fall asleep," Stiles instructed, already feeling a bit sluggish and tired, "And I apologize profusely in advance if I puke." The lights cutting out had actually helped him, but he could easily tell that his vision was still blurry and his stomach was rolling. He leaned back against the wall, gingerly letting his head rest against it. It was slightly cooler than the air and made him feel only marginally better. He could see Derek moving around, most likely towards whatever door was keeping them inside. "I wouldn't recommend touching it," he said wearily, "My guess is salt infused iron with a fusion of mountain ash and wolfsbane at the core."

Derek didn't say anything at first, his mouth twisting down into a deep-set frown as he took Stiles' advice and didn't actually touch the damn door. He gritted his teeth, eyeing it for a long moment, trying to work out if there'd be a way for him to-- pick the lock, for him to do something. He kept his mouth shut for a long while, letting the silence swell up in the cell between them, mostly because he was straining his ears to see if he could hear something outside, but everything seemed-- still. He could hear muffled talking, but it seemed like it was a way off from them so Derek sighed and slumped back against the wall of the cell for the moment, before he was shifting over to Stiles, one hand reaching out and turning Stiles' head to inspect where he'd been hit. "If you throw up on me, I'm ripping off one of your limbs," he warned, not meaning it but whatever.

Stiles felt Derek's fingers, surprisingly gently as they prodded his skull. "Symptoms of concussion are headache or a feeling of pressure in the head, temporary loss of consciousness, confusion or feeling as if in a fog, amnesia surrounding the traumatic event, dizziness or "seeing stars", ringing in the ears, nausea or vomiting, slurred speech, and fatigue," he recited from memory, happy that at least his long term memory was fine, "I am currently experiencing five of those." It was one time in his life that he was a little irritated with the fact that he was human. He would be much more helpful on the top of his game. He batted Derek's hands away so he could get at his pockets. "Phone gone, knife gone, flash bombs gone," he muttered to himself, "Pepper spray gone," he reached down towards his ankles, "Back up knife gone, wolfsbane spray gone," he lifted his hips and unashamedly stuck his hand into his pants, "Lock picking kit gone. Not gonna lie, I feel a little violated."

Derek shifted backwards as much as he could when Stiles was pushing back at him to do so. He sat there silently, watching as Stiles started to check every place on him that held weaponry. And when Stiles was shoving a hand down the front of his pants, Derek arched his eyebrows up at Stiles, not even really sure why he was surprised here. "You keep a lock picking kit in your boxers?" He asked, and yeah, no-- he really wasn't surprised. He scoffed, before he was slouching back against the wall, sighing quietly. The others knew where they were. Hopefully they were working something out now, or maybe going to Chris for help with these hunters. Either way, there really wasn't much they could do right now but sit and see how it played out. After a moment, he reached out one hand, curling it around Stiles' ankle that was next to his hip, before starting to draw away at any nausea or lingering pain from Stiles' body. He wasn't exactly at his strongest, so it wouldn't do much. But it would at least help.

"I only have so many places to put things," Stiles grumbled, having closed his eyes to lean his head back again, "It's not like I have boobs." He suddenly felt the nausea get sucked away, along with the resounding ache that had been pounding through his head. His eyes snapped open and he looked towards Derek, where he could just barely make out the hand on his ankle riddle with darkened veins. "Hey, quit it," Stiles instructed, though he didn't pull away, "This entire cell his probably lined inside with the same things as the door. Being in here has to be detrimental for you." If anyone had a chance of getting out of here, it was Derek. He knew that the others were probably out there brainstorming, but it would be far more difficult. Now the hunters were on the alert and they wouldn't let anyone walk in that easy.

"What? You wanna slip back out of consciousness again?" he shot back at Stiles, when he was being told to stop, "Because if you don't shut up, it can be arranged." He huffed out back to Stiles, keeping his hand around Stiles' ankle for another minute or two more. But there was only so much that he could take here, especially considering the conditions they were currently in. He pulled his hand back and away, breathing a little rough and ragged for a moment, before composing himself once again. He folded his arms across his chest, still slumped against the wall of the cell, eyes falling on Stiles across from him. "If you'd have run when I told you to, we wouldn't be in this position." He pointed out after a stretch of silence, letting his irritation wash over him then.

"What, and let you get caught on your own?" Stiles shot back, "You were supposed to take my noble sacrifice and run for it. Besides, had I not been here, you probably would have touched that door and been knocked the fuck out again." He was a little angry that Derek actually was in here with him. He had hoped that everyone else had gotten out, but no. Of course not everyone had made it out. He actually had no idea why he and Derek were still alive. Well, at least Derek if he was being honest. These hunters weren't really like Chris. They reminded him a little more of Gerard, which scared the shit out of Stiles. Them being alive could only mean bad things were coming.

Derek narrowed his eyes, angry and sharp at Stiles, despite the fact that Stiles probably wouldn't be able to make out his glare clearly considering the dark settings. "Noble sacrifice?" Derek snapped out back to Stiles, sitting up a little more as he spoke back to Stiles, "If I hadn't have intercepted that hit, you'd be a heck of a lot worse than you are right now, Stiles." He snarled out at him, voice low and furious. "You ending up with serious injuries in hospital really wasn't on my goddamn agenda today," he snapped out, "You should've taken that opportunity to go. You're human Stiles. Staying was helping exactly no one if it meant that you were getting yourself hit around hard."

"Look, asshole," Stiles said angrily, "Any of you getting stuck in here would be far worse than it would be for me? What can they do to me? Human, sheriff's son, at least six eyewitnesses that could say I was here and had broken in on a prank or something. I can't get killed without them facing serious legalities. You, however, exonerated serial killer that people still suspect of shifty activities because of your refusal to properly socialize, could be murdered without the blink of an--" Stiles was cut off by the loud creak of a heavy door being opened at the end of the hall. His heart nearly shot out of his chest as it raced in apprehension and fear. He had no idea who was coming or why.

Derek could feel himself growing tense as Stiles spoke to him. "It's not about that," he snarled out, starting to talk over the top of Stiles, furious, "You think these people give a fuck about you being the Sheriff's son, or you--" He cut off as well as he went someone approaching them. They didn't smell familiar, so Derek knew almost instantly that they weren’t being saved here. He shifted then to move in front of Stiles, because he knew Stiles could protect himself just fine-- but that was with the aid of his weapons, which he had exactly none of right now. The cell door was opened and before Derek could do a single thing, the hunter in front of him was waving a baton of electricity in warning. "Don't even think about it," he said, smirking, two hunters standing in his wake. "We're going to have a chat, Derek. Shouldn't take too long," he said as the two other men moved closer, "You could make this easy and come with us willingly. Maybe we won't have to hurt the human much if you do." Derek snarled, not wanting to move an inch, but knowing if he fought it wouldn't do any good. So he pulled himself up.

Stiles grabbed Derek's wrist on instinct, not wanting him to go with anyone waving around an electric baton. If he got hurt, he would have a very hard time healing again in a room like this. As much as Stiles found Derek incredibly difficult and irritating, he no longer wanted the guy dead and would prefer if he didn't get tortured by fucked up hunters. He could see them all looking at him and he knew he was making things worse, so he slowly loosened his grip and let Derek's hand go. His heart was still racing and his mind was as well, trying to work through his concussion to think of a way to get them out of this.

When Stiles' hand was reaching out and gripping at his wrist, Derek turned his head to look at him, about to tell Stiles to let go, just before Stiles seemed to think it over and did. "Don't do anything stupid," he warned Stiles, but his voice was gentler than it usually would've been, not wanting Stiles to say something idiotic to rile up the hunters and wind himself getting the crap beaten out of him. He got up and walked out then with the hunters. It was almost an hour before he was sent back to the cell, being thrown inside, the door locking up immediately after. They wanted to know about his pack. When he didn't talk, he was tortured. It went on for a while, the questions varying from wanting to know the names of all the werewolves in town, to wanting to know Chris Argent's involvement with them. He was thrown back in the cell with a promise of another "talk" later when Derek felt more up for it, considering he was near passing out.

Stiles was up as soon as the hunters were gone with Derek, ignoring the dizziness in his head. He went through all the walls slowly, searching for weaknesses, openings, cracks, wiggle room, anything. The entire thing was airtight and secure. He knew he should've brought his spare lock picks. Honestly, they were just modified paper clips that fit behind the line of Stiles' teeth. Much harder to find than anything else he always had on him. He made himself sit back down when the nausea returned and after what felt like an eternity, the door was opened and Derek was tossed in. "Oh my god," Stiles muttered, casting a quick glance over as the door closed. He moved over towards Derek, turning him over onto his back and propping his head up. "Are you alright?" Stiles asked on instinct, "What the hell is wrong with me, of course you're not. Are you going to be alright? What did they want?"

Derek didn't say anything other than just a series of groans at first, his head fucking pounding right now. He let Stiles manhandle him how he wanted for a moment, feeling too sluggish to do much else. "They wanted to know about the pack, about Chris," he slurred out, keeping his eyes pressed shut, to mostly will his body to heal already. But it was slow going from the wolfsbane. "We also have another problem," he gritted out after a moment, thinking back to the taunting he'd received while being talked to. "The full moon-- It's tomorrow," he breathed out, voice rough and low. "If I'm still weak like this tomorrow, keeping control over the shift is-- It's going to be hard," he wheezed out, "And if we're still here, and you're in with me--" He didn't bother to finish the sentence, just wanting to fucking sleep for hours and heal.

"We'll be fine," Stiles said, shaking his head, "It's all gonna be fine." It wasn't a lie, but he wasn't completely sure of it either. The thought honestly did scare him a little. He's seen Derek full shifted and angry and he had hoped to never have any of that directed at him. He shifted them again so that Derek could stretch out completely and Stiles could stretch his legs out with the werewolf's head on his lap. He could tell by the state of Derek that he hadn't given them any information and he couldn't deny that he was proud. He had begun running his hand through Derek's hair without even realizing he was doing it, remembering his own mother doing it for him. "I mean hey, if we're being honest, they're probably going to want to tease you while you're shifted right? Wow, that probably doesn't make you feel better at all. Forget I said anything," Stiles babbled, not even sure if Derek could still hear him.

Derek didn't say anything for a long moment, knowing they wouldn’t be that lucky. If they were still here during the full moon, he'd be kept in the cell with Stiles. "They can't kill either of us right now. But if I kill you," Derek said, his voice low and soft, mostly focusing on willing his body to heal, "I'll have murdered a human, and the code will be enforced. They'll have all the reason to kill me within it." He didn't say anything for a while then, keeping his eyes shut and finding himself leaning into the feel of Stiles' fingers through his hair, finding himself more comforted by it then he thought he would be.

"You won't kill me," Stiles said, sounding much more confident than he actually was, "You won't kill me. If you didn't kill me the time I blamed you for all the murders or the time I called you Miguel and made you strip for Danny or any of the other times that I did something stupid or annoying, then you won't kill me now. I know it." He couldn't let himself think anything else. If he did, he would probably have a panic attack and he couldn't do that while Derek was so weak. He could only pray that the others would come through for them before the full moon rose. He let his head fall back against the stone behind him. "It's going to be fine."

Derek was drifting in and out of the conversation, catching most of what Stiles was saying but it was sluggish to his ears. He scoffed quietly at the few comments he managed to catch onto. He wanted to be the optimist here. He did. But it just-- wasn't exactly looking all that great right now. And if the others didn't find him by tomorrow evening, they'd be no help, because they'd still need to be contained until the full moon was over. It wasn't looking at all good right now. "Next time they come and get me," Derek said after a moment, voice somewhat steadier, "I'm going to do something, attack them-- create a distraction and you're going to run." His voice left no room for arguments. "I'm not risking you still being here tomorrow," he said.

"Oh yes," Stiles snorted, "A concussed unarmed human will get so far in a place full of asshole hunters. Do you know what they'll do to you if you try?" However, with Derek like this, Stiles knew that it was almost impossible for him to say no. If Derek gave him the opportunity, he would run. For Derek, he would try, despite knowing that he would never get very far. At least it would show them that they weren't giving up so easily. "Just get some rest," Stiles said a little more gently, "Heal. I'll keep watch." He couldn't go to sleep with his concussion anyway.

Derek didn't bother to argue, because he was tired as hell. So he breathed out slow and deep, trying to ignore the sharp series of pains from the breaks in his ribs that he hoped would be healed up by the time he awoke, really not wanting to have to deal with them later on when he was more conscious. After a moment, he turned his head to the side, pressing his face against Stiles' hip and fell to sleep. It wasn't exactly peacefully, but it was heavy, lulled down by the sound of Stiles' heart beat and breathing and nothing else, glad at least that the hunters were leaving them alone for a while.

There was really no measure of time in the small cell. They had no windows or clocks or anything, just four walls and the opening. He couldn't see any natural light. He didn't even know if it was actually nighttime. Nonetheless, he stayed awake. He was a little surprised that he didn't explode with boredom. He hadn't had any Adderall and his mind was positively dead. He had nothing to focus on, nothing to engage in. He tried his hardest to think of escape plans or anything, but he really couldn't. He just tried to keep still so Derek could continue to sleep and heal. He didn't think about how he sort of had to pee and how he was actually really hungry. If he did, he would go crazy faster. He could see his hands beginning to shake, his body unused to the lack of medication.

Derek awoke two hours or so later, not being able to sleep for too long, surprised that he'd even managed this. He blinked his eyes opening slowly, panicking for one brief moment when he couldn't see anything at all even with his eyes open. But he quickly realized that it was because he was in a dark cell, with his face pressed to Stiles' stomach. He rolled over and back onto his back, stretching a little. He still didn't feel great. But the ribs didn't hurt like they were broken any longer. They mostly just felt bruised. "Did I miss anything?" he asked Stiles, voice a little hoarse from sleep, before he carefully pulled himself up from Stiles' lap, moving tentatively.

"Just me being bored," Stiles tried to joke, giving Derek a lopsided smile. As soon as the werewolf had sat up, Stiles had shoved his hands under his thighs so that Derek wouldn't see them shaking. He didn't need anything else to worry about. "How are you feeling?" he questioned, scrutinizing the other. He seemed to be able to move around a little better so at the very least, he must be in less pain. Stiles wished he could do the weird pain-sucking thing. He hadn't heard anything from the hunters since Derek had been thrown back into the cell, not even footsteps past the door.

Derek shifted up a little, moving to press his back against the stonewall next to Stiles, pressing their shoulders together as he did so. Usually, he'd go out of his way to ensure that there was space between them, but this wasn't exactly-- a normal situation here. And he felt oddly reassured, so he just let himself stay here. He didn't miss Stiles moving to sit on his hands however, frowning a little at the movement of it when he'd done so. "What's wrong with your hands?" he found himself asking, head back against the wall, his eyes narrowed as he glanced to the side of him at Stiles, nodding pointedly down to the hands that were being kept hidden from him, ignoring Stiles' question.

"Nothing. Why would there be something wrong with my hands? There's nothing wrong with my hands. I have great hands. The best hands. People could write sonnets about my hands. Shakespeare would be shamed by the poetry about my hands," Stiles babbled, pressing his lips together when he realized that he was going a little crazy with the word vomit. The withdrawal was affecting him more than he thought it would. He shut his eyes in frustration, knowing that Derek could easily hear the lies he'd spouted. He waited a moment before pulling his hands out and resting them in his lap, the shaking having becoming worse. "I'm experiencing a bit of... withdrawal," he admitted, "I missed my Adderall dose before we came in and I missed a second one while we were here. It runs out of your system pretty quickly."

Derek narrowed his eyes further when Stiles was starting to ramble about nothing being wrong with his hands, and he'd been close to growling at Stiles and moving to grab Stiles' hands to take a look for himself, before Stiles was bringing back out his trembling hands. Derek stared down at them for a long moment, taking in what Stiles was saying. He nodded back slowly to him. He didn't know how he could help with this. It wasn't like he had any goddamn Adderall on him right now, and that was the only real thing that would help here. He frowned for a moment, before he was letting out a long suffering sigh, one of his hands reaching out and pulling both of Stiles' hands onto his lap, letting his own curl around the back of Stiles', lacing their fingers and giving him something to focus on that wasn't the shaking. "Shut up and don't complain," he snapped out almost immediately once he'd done it, mostly to mask his embarrassment, but he wasn't sure how else he could help and he wanted to do something. Besides, this wasn't exactly a hardship.

Stiles could feel his face heat up as he stared at their entwined hands. He had to admit, it did make his hands stop shaking. Instead, you know, it kind of made his mind explode and his heart burst on top of that. He pressed his lips together to prevent himself from saying anything stupid and ruining this. He wasn't about to say that it was something he'd thought about more than once. "So uhh," Stiles said slowly, "Are you feeling any better?" He was afraid the hunters would come back before Derek could handle more, because as much as he wanted to believe everything would be okay, Stiles knew that the hunters would be back again to give it to Derek.

Derek didn't say anything at first, mostly intent on listening to the way Stiles' heart beat abruptly spiked in his chest from the contact. Eventually he muttered, "I'm fine enough." He relaxed back as much as he could against the stonewall, which to say wasn't exactly great but it was something. He kept his hands warm against the back of Stiles', his thumb brushing over the back of Stiles' knuckles a little absentmindedly as he spoke back to Stiles "I'm mostly healed. Not completely but I don't think I will be anyway until I get out of here. The wolfsbane is-- It's keeping me weak," he said, talking quietly and around a sigh, "Are you alright? They didn't do anything while I was gone right?"

"No, they left me alone," Stiles confirmed, "I basically inspected of inch of this godforsaken room and found literally nothing. Not even a security camera. I paced a little bit, but then I got really dizzy and nauseous so I stopped. Basically went out of my mind with worry before you were tossed back in." He wished there was something he could do for Derek, but unfortunately he couldn't rip the wolfsbane out of the goddamn walls. If anyone should try to run for it, it was Derek. Then he would be safe on the full moon and he and the others could properly heal and form a real plan to get Stiles out. If there was still a Stiles left to get out of course. If he actually managed to distract them enough to get Derek out, there was no question in Stiles' mind that he would be killed.

Derek didn't say anything for a while, listening to Stiles, before letting the quiet swell up back between them in the cramped cell. He sighed quietly, eyes shutting as he rested the back of his head against the wall, trying to think over exactly what they could do here, really not wanting to think about what would happen if Stiles still in the cell with him come tomorrow night. The hunter's had taunted him earlier, told him that he was going to wake up the day after the full moon and find his human torn to shreds and they'd find Derek, covered in his blood before killing him themselves, after letting him wallow in his guilt. He gritted his teeth, trying to push those thoughts far away, hands gripping tighter at Stiles' hands.

Stiles could practically feel the air filling with tension as Derek's body did, his hands suddenly being held tighter. "Hey," Stiles said softly, turning his head to look at Derek, "Everything is going to be fine. Scott and everyone are probably on their way right now with Chris and Allison, signature bad asses. Even if they're not we are going to make it through this, okay? I know we are. We're both going to make it out of this." Stiles put as much conviction as he could into his words. Derek needed to hear that he was sure. He needed to hear the steadiness of Stiles' heart and know that everything was going to be fine. "If there's anything you're really bad at, it's dying."

Derek listened to Stiles talking and willed himself to believe what he was saying here. But really, when did things ever play out how he wanted them to? And Derek wasn't exactly reassured when Stiles was telling him that he was bad at dying. Because it wasn't himself that he was worried about. No matter what, the people Derek cared about always fucking died around him and he just-- couldn't let that happen to Stiles as well. He turned his head to the side after a moment, meeting Stiles' eyes through the darkness, searching them for a moment. "Just--" he started, before cutting himself off after a moment. "Okay," he muttered quietly back to him after a moment, sighing.

He could tell that Derek wasn't convinced. He could see it in his body language and hear it in his voice. At this point, Stiles' leg had begun to shake in lieu of his hands. "Sorry," he muttered with a sheepish smile as the fabric of his pants made an annoying sound against the floor that must be impossible for Derek. As hard as he tried, he couldn't make his leg stop. The lack of Adderall was really beginning to get to him. Stiles had read scary things on the Internet about withdrawal, and he was honestly beginning to get a little nervous. Depending on how long they were here, he knew he would be better once he got past the initial withdrawal, but for now it would be difficult.

Derek's gaze snapped down as he watched Stiles' leg started to twitch before shaking as well as his hands. Derek exhaled long suffering at the sound, drawing out a "Stiles," somewhat irritated despite the fact that he knew there was nothing he could do about it. It wasn't Stiles' fault. He was mostly irritated by the situation as a whole. He sat there for a while longer, listening to the sound of Stiles' shaking next to him before he was huffing out a small sigh and shifting. He moved until he was straddling Stiles' thighs, sitting down on them and keeping them still, really not caring about the position he was in or if Stiles would complain. "You're the bane of my existence," he muttered darkly, hands still clasped with Stiles'.

Stiles eyes almost popped out of his head, lips parting in surprise, heart racing. Derek was straddling him. Derek was sitting on his thighs, and holding his hands. Maybe crazy hunters weren’t actually holding him prisoner. Maybe he was actually at home in bed dreaming. That would make much more sense. That, at least had happened before. He could deal with that. This, in real life? Stiles' heart was having some kind of epileptic fit and he knew that Derek could hear it, which only made it worse. "Same to you, asshole," he managed to choke out, trying to keep the banter up and prevent this from becoming the most awkward situation in the history of awkward situations.

Derek sat still, listening to the abrupt elation of Stiles' heart and he resisting the urge to let a smug expression cross his features at just how Stiles was reacting to him. He would've let the smirk tug at his mouth, if he wasn't pissed as hell right now about-- heck, about everything. "Listen to me," he said firmly after a moment, "I mean it Stiles. The next time they open this cell up. You're making a run for it." He kept his voice steady and strong as he spoke, leaving no room for an argument here, because before when he'd suggested it, Stiles hadn't exactly seemed too up for the idea and hadn't given him confirmation that he would run. "You're going to end up getting us both killed if you don't."

"I umm yeah right, running yes," Stiles said, still completely stuck on the fact that Derek was sitting on him. He was a teenager who didn't really get a lot of action, sue him. He shook his head, trying to focus when it was running off in about a hundred different directions, most of them dirty. "What about you? Derek, if I run, they're going to hurt you. What if I don't make it? What if I run but then get caught. Then it'll be for nothing. What if I make it out but we can't get back in to save you. Derek, I can't leave you here," Stiles shot off into a babbling speech, feeling more and more nervous about the idea of leaving Derek behind.

Derek listened to Stiles starting to ramble fast about what could happen and after a moment, Derek cut him off, gripping his hands harder. "Then don't get caught," he said to him, eyes locking with Stiles' as he spoke, "You run and you don't get caught. I'll get out another way. But I need to know you're okay and you're not in the damn cell with me by the full moon Stiles." His voice wavered a little as he spoke before he was gritting his teeth and shutting up for a moment, composing himself again, resisting the urge to just-- slump against Stiles and rest there. "Promise me," he said after a moment.

Stiles was taken off guard by the sudden show of emotion, almost vulnerability. He couldn't promise that he wouldn't get caught, but he would at least try. "I promise I'll try," he said quietly, looking into Derek's pale blue green, human eyes. He knew that the probability of him getting out and staying that way wasn't likely. He'd seen the plans for this place. He knew the perimeter was reinforced to the nines and that with nothing on him, it would be hard. Hopefully, he could pick up a weapon on the way. "Promise you'll be here for us to save," Stiles said back, his worry increasing the more he thought about escaping.

Derek stayed tensed up for a while longer, listening to Stiles and he hesitated a moment, not even sure if he could promise that. Because he knew if Stiles did manage to get out, it would be taken out on Derek. He didn't say anything for a moment, before huffing out a quiet, "I promise," he said, nodding a little in agreement back to Stiles, hoping that he'd be able to stick to it. He kept his gaze on Stiles' as he spoke, unlacing their fingers for a moment, to run a hand over his face tiredly, before pushing his fingers through his hair once before letting his hands drop again, finding Stiles' hands, feeling them shaking against his own until Derek laced their fingers again and squeezed gently till they stilled.

Stiles nodded in response to Derek's words. He knew it was probably an empty promise. There was very little that Derek could control about this situation, but it made Stiles feel better to hear. "So, do you have any idea what time it is?" Stiles asked with a small smile, "Because I'd love to know." The air had gotten surprisingly heavy and serious and he wanted to try and lighten the mood a little bit. That was what he did. Stiles researched, solved problems, and brought comic relief. It was the least he owed Derek, who was going so far as to straddle him to help with the symptoms of his withdrawal.

Derek shrugged. "How should I know," he sighed out to Stiles' question, because when he'd been taken out of the cell, he couldn't see outside. He figured that they must be on the basement level of the building because there were no windows in the room he'd been taken to. "It's got to be at least ten," he muttered, thinking over what time they'd arrived here with the others. It'd been early evening, barely six gone. They'd definitely been here a few hours now. He shifted a little, slightly uncomfortable, moving until he was sitting a little better, knees still either side of Stiles' hips as he settled again.

Stiles jaw dropped and he kind of let out a choked noise. "Can… can you not do that unless you really want this to turn into a problem situation," he said, face red with embarrassment about admitting it. He knew his heart was racing and his palms were probably beginning to sweat and his mouth was getting a little dry. Stiles wanted to stab his teenage hormones in the face. It didn't help anything that it was Derek and it made everything worse that Derek's face looked like angels had carved it out of marble. This was definitely not the time or place to be getting awkward boners. Not while being held prisoner by hunters.

Derek stilled completely when Stiles stared talking, before quickly working out what he was worried about here. "Jesus," Derek huffed out under his breath, a little irritably, "We're in a cell trapped by hunters." He was pointedly ignoring the fact that he was having similar issues to Stiles. He didn't look too hard into it. He instead frowned, his brow creased, "Just don't focus on what I'm doing here," he shot out back to Stiles after a moment, "Focus on the fact that we're trapped in a fucking cell right now."

"Oh yes, let me just send my teenage hormones a memo about appropriate boner situations," Stiles huffed, "Because they're super good at controlling all that." He was quiet for a moment, happy that the boner hadn't actually happened yet at least. That would make everything a whole lot worse. "Look, in case it wasn't blatantly displayed, I haven't really gotten any in ever, " he said, a bit exasperated, his face still covered in a crimson blush, "So my body doesn't really understand the whole "wait for the right moment" thing. It's more of a "take it while the opportunity is still alive" sort of situation.”

Derek scoffed back at Stiles talking about controlling his hormones before he was shutting up again and stilling. He knew Scott had been with Allison for a while there, and Stiles-- he'd just always assumed that there was something with someone who just-- wasn't involved with all the werewolf stuff. But thinking about it, other than the usual people, he never really smelled anyone new on Stiles. "I-- What happened with Lydia?" he asked, somewhat tentatively after a moment, because he remembered Stiles liking her and now Jackson had left, had Stiles tried something? Clearly not by the sounds of it.

Stiles let out a small laugh. "Lydia's love for Jackson literally brought him back to life and stopped him from being a lizardy killing monster," he huffed with a small smile, "That ship has sailed. Besides, we're actually a much better team as super genius friends." He felt a little weird talking about this with Derek. He had honestly figured that the older man already knew. What with all the extra senses, Stiles figured that all the werewolves would be able to tell if he ever finally got with someone. If they were in the pack, then obviously everyone would tell everyone else, but even if they weren't he knew they would be able to smell an increased amount of unfamiliar person on him.

Derek didn't say anything for a while, finding himself actually--surprised that Stiles didn't, or hadn't ever had anyone. It wasn't like Derek ever focused his senses too hard around the pack, mostly because he didn't want to know more than he already did about their relationships. But the fact that Stiles just hadn't ever been with anyone was a slight shock. Sure, Stiles could talk too much and would get the hell on his nerves half the time, but he was a good kid. He was loyal as hell and smarter than Derek thought he let on. And he wasn't anything close to bad looking. "There'll be someone else," he found himself lamely offering after a moment, cringing a little at his own words, because he was the last person to give advice here considering his own relationship history.

"I'm thinking college is probably my window," Stiles said with a sage nod, "No one here appreciates my awesome. They all want the high school dream, the super hot sports guy." It was becoming increasingly weird to have this conversation with not only Derek, but with Derek on top of him. He knew that the older man has had plenty of his own relationship issues, but Stiles felt that he probably wouldn't want to hear any kind of comment on them from him. He had to feel bad enough about it. Stiles would.

Derek fell back into silence for a moment as he looked at Stiles. He glanced down at their hands then, still clasped between them, and Derek untangled their fingers, just testing-- And Stiles' hands still shook. "Is there something I can do?" he asked, knowing that sitting on Stiles' legs and holding his hands wasn't exactly-- really helping here. He was just holding him still. Derek didn't really know if there was anything he could do. He wasn't sure if a distraction would work. And it still didn't look like they were getting out of here anytime soon, the hunters seemingly leaving them alone for the rest of the night. Derek figured they'd be back by morning to talk again and he just-- wasn't sure he could watch Stiles shaking in front of him all night.

"I'm afraid not, wolfman," Stiles said, chuckled a little bit, "If you need to move, you can. I'll handle it." If he folded himself up the right way, he was sure that he could keep himself from shaking. He wasn't about to make Derek sit on him for the entire night in the first place. "Here, get off," Stiles said, taking his hands out of Derek and trying to wiggle out from underneath of the older man. Had he been wiggling in the other direction that would have become an embarrassing problem. Somehow he got himself out and proceeded to fold himself into a corner. He kneeled first and then sat down on his heels before shoving his hands between his thighs and his calves. "Go to sleep or something," he instructed, "You're going to have a worse time here than I will."

Derek frowned a little when Stiles was squirming to push him off from him, but after a moment Derek shifted backwards. He watched Stiles curled up on himself and he exhaled quietly. He reached out after a moment, prying at Stiles' arm, to tug it out from under his thigh. "Don't be stupid," he huffed out back to him, "You can't stay like that the entire night. Jesus, Stiles." Scowling, he worked both hands out from under Stiles before he was sitting back, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Your limbs will go dead and I'm not up for listening to you complaining about it," he huffed out in an explanation.

"You can't sit on me all night!" Stiles protested squirming away until he could sit on his hands again properly. He knew that if Derek really wanted to, he could probably pull Stiles' entire arm off. "Just ignore me and go to sleep, I know how to not complain when I need to," Stiles insisted, "You're not going to be able to sleep sitting on top of me." He refused to let Derek worry about anything other than healing and being okay. He wished they had something to eat, but they'd be lucky if they got water before dying of dehydration. He suddenly wondered if Derek's being a werewolf would allow him to live longer without water because of the healing.

"I don't want to sit on you all night," he snapped back to Stiles, shifting closer again to grab onto Stiles' arm, and tug when Stiles was sitting back down on his hands again. "I'm just telling you can you can't stay sat like that for more than an hour or two. I can put up with the shaking if you can," he shot back to him, scowling still as he spoke to Stiles, fingers around his wrist as he pulled then back out from under his thighs. He forced out a long breath, feeling himself growing worked up again here and he didn't exactly want to sink back into an argument with Stiles again here so he just gritted his teeth and shut up.

Stiles unfolded himself and could feel himself almost vibrating. He felt worse for Derek who had to deal with the noise it caused. "How about we both just relax and get some rest," he said, trying to keep his voice gentle and soothing. He knew it was better that Derek stay as relaxed as he could with the full moon coming. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get too out of control. Stiles moved until he could lay down across the floor, his back to Derek. He felt too awkward to lay down facing the other man. It was weird enough being stuck in here with him.

Derek didn't move or say anything for a long moment, watching as Stiles moved to lie down on the ground, his back towards him and Derek's expression softened a little, feeling somewhat guilty for snapping at Stiles over something that was mostly out of their control. He shifted down, moving to lie down on his back, eyes up on the dark ceiling of the cell. A few minutes past of listening to Stiles shuddering and shaking next to him softly, and finally Derek found himself rolling onto his side, and pressing up against Stiles' back, an arm winding around Stiles', hand finding both of Stiles' and gripping at them both, before Stiles could say anything about it. He pressed his face against the back of Stiles' neck and settled there. They were both in the same position here, stuck with the hunters and it wasn't exactly the most-- relaxing situation. Derek probably could've done with being less harsh to Stiles. He knew he could. He just couldn't stop himself sometimes.

Stiles knew he was in for a rough night when he couldn't stop moving, even when he was lying down. He just hoped Derek would be able to tune it out somewhere. At least, that's what he thought until he felt a hard, warm body pressed up against him, a strong arm wrapping around him and holding his hands still. Tension filled his body and he suddenly went completely still. He was spooning Derek. Or more accurately, Derek was spooning him. For one of the first times in his life, Stiles felt himself go speechless. His mouth opened and closed, making him feel a bit like a fish. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't. Instead, Stiles let himself relax, closing his eyes. Soon his breathing evened out, and he was sleeping.

It took Derek longer than Stiles to fall asleep, but he usually struggled to sleep in the best of times. In sleep at least, Stiles seemed to relax down some, not as jittery as he was when he was awake so Derek eased up his grip on Stiles' hands, but found he didn't exactly want to let go and pull back completely. He didn't look too deeply into it. Instead pressing his face a little more against Stiles' neck, focusing in on his familiar scent, the scent of pack, and let himself drift into sleep. It wasn't peaceful, or all that comfortable, but he managed to close his eyes and get some shuteye for a few hours.

Stiles didn't dream. Part of him was grateful, because that meant no awkward morning boners. A smaller part of him wished for the comfort of a dream, even a nonsensical one. Just something to take him away from the reality of the situation that they were in. Maybe even something to discuss with Derek to distract him. He slept rather soundly, that is until the door slammed open. Stiles jolted awake, Derek's arms preventing him from really going anywhere. "Now isn't this adorable," one of the hunters cooed, "I guess the full moon tonight is gonna hurt more than we thought." The other two men behind him laughed. "Isn't that illegal?" one commented, "How old is that kid anyway?" They laughed again.

Derek was disorientated when the door was abruptly slamming open. He snapped up the moment he realized what was happening here and narrowed his eyes sharp at the hunters, placing himself in front of Stiles still. He tried to ignore their comments, his body tensing up, hoping that Stiles was awake enough to do what they'd planned the previous night. He side glanced to him briefly, before he was launching himself forwards on the first hunter, knocking him backwards, taken completely by surprise. He had him knocked out before he was could do much about it. Then Derek was being hit repeatedly by sharp electricity and he cried out, someone gripping hard at his hair and yanking back. "Now, now, what d'you think you're doing here?" The hunter said to him, and Derek snarled. "Get off me or I'll break your arm," he warned, angry and low and the man laugh, tapping the charged baton to his throat.

Stiles nearly forgot, only just barely awake, but as soon as he saw Derek go at the first man, Stiles was suddenly more awake than he'd ever been in his life. He grabbed the first gun and knife that he saw on the man and tensed when he saw the second man had a hold of Derek. The third was nowhere in sight, but Stiles didn't want to assume he was gone. He had a clear shot past the other man's back down the hall but he was frozen, having the most intense moral debate he'd ever had in his life. Finally, it all almost seemed to slow down. Stiles ran past the man, but just before he was clear, he turned and stabbed him in the side, taking the knife before continuing down the hall. He prayed to god that Derek followed, but he'd promised him that he would run, so Stiles was running.

The hunter holding Derek's hair abruptly yelped out in pain, letting go of him from the shock of it and Derek was moving forwards fast, not before being shot in his shoulder from the third hunter who'd emerged back from where he'd been hidden. Derek stumbled forwards, hand clutching his upper arm, but he managed to stay upright, his eyes narrowing in on the man. "Was this your plan? Sacrifice yourself and let him run free? How very romantic of you." The hunter taunted, and Derek snarled. "You've just gotten him killed. You think we're the only hunters in here?" He barked out a laugh, and Derek was stepping forwards, landing a jaw breaking punch to him, watching him collapse before he was running after Stiles.

Stiles ran out the door at the end of the hall and up the only set of stairs he could see and realized that he had no idea how to get out. He didn't have much of a chance to make a decision as hunters came barreling around a corner. Stiles turned to run in the opposite direction when he heart shots running out behind him. "Fuck" he muttered, but he knew better than to turn around. He skidded around a corner and would've continued that way if hunters didn't start coming down the opposite direction. Stiles almost fell over as he stopped and turned down the hall that he had been planning on ignoring. All too soon, he ran into more. "Nowhere to go now," someone jeered. Stiles could hear guns cocking and he began to panic. He turned his head and saw a door, which he promptly ripped open. Shots rang out and Stiles let out a scream as a bullet went through his thigh. He slammed the door shut behind him, thanking god that it had to be pushed open from the inside as he threw all his weight against it, putting pressure on his thigh, tears in his eyes as he looked for something to barricade the door with.

Derek was moving fast down the maze of corridors, following after Stiles' scent and the sound of the hunter's footsteps. He ran into a few along the way, taking them down easily enough in his panic to find Stiles because he'd heard gun shots in the air and fuck, if it wasn't setting him on edge. He pushed through fast, until he saw several men at a closed door, trying to push it open and Derek moved forwards fast. He was stabbed a few times, but right now, he barely noticed as he fought through, knocking them all out. Being so-- fucking careful not to kill anyone and give them a reason to enforce the code here. Once the were all out, Derek pressed closer to the door, breathing out a quiet "Stiles," to let him know it was him before moving inside, hearing others approaching from down the corridor. He slammed the door shut, resting his weight against it before his eyes dropped to Stiles' thigh. "Fuck-- Stiles, your thigh--" he said, starting to move away from the door, before he was abruptly slammed against from the other side and Derek braced himself.

"I'm fine," Stiles lied through gritted teeth. This wasn't the time to think about injuries; this was the time to get the hell out. He turned, looking around to see where they were. A large supply closet by the looks of it. No windows, cleaning supplies, some spare chairs. Fuck. Leave it to Stiles to pick the room where they couldn't climb out a window. "God Derek, I'm so sorry," he said, leaning against a wall, "I'm such a fuck up." He turned and threw his weight against the door next to the werewolf. The door wasn't going to last forever. Stiles flipped on the light with a whack of his bloody hand. Hopefully there was something he could so with the materials at hand.

Derek glanced around them, ignoring the calls and taunts from the other side of the door as Derek held fast against it. "C'mon boys," someone sneered, "You can come out like men and face us, or you can haul up in there till the full moon." He pointed out, "Hey kid, you really wanna be stuck in there when that monster wants to tear you apart?" There was laughter and Derek gritted his teeth, "There's a vent," he said, nodding upwards to Stiles, "Stack the chairs and try to work it open. I can hold them off for a while," he said to him, nodding firmly to Stiles.

Stiles shut his mouth when Derek spoke to him, entirely prepared with a snarky remark. He looked at Derek seriously, knowing that it was highly unlikely the werewolf would be able to follow him out the same way. There just wouldn't be enough time for him to climb up before they got the door open. Nonetheless, he limped over to where the chairs sat and pushed them over to where the vent was to begin stacking them up. He ignored the pain shooting through his leg and the blood that was drenching his pants. "You're going to follow me, right Derek?" he asked, trying to sound more casual than he was.

Derek didn't answer immediately, mostly focused on keeping the door firmly shut as he felt the men hitting hard against it on the other side. His eyes followed Stiles as he watched him stack up the chairs steady enough to stand on and high enough to reach up to the vent above them. "Yeah," he said after a moment, "Yeah, I'll be right after you." He nodded, lying because there was just no way in hell he was going to make up there before the hunters got him. But he didn't need Stiles worrying about his safety right now, not when Stiles needed to get out of here and have his leg sorted. "Just-- hurry up Stiles," he urged, wanting Stiles up and in that vent as fast as possible.

He knew Derek was lying. Stiles didn't need special werewolf powers to know that. He got the chairs up and he tried to decide which leg would be better to lead with. A particularly hard slam came from the other side of the door, almost tossing Derek off it. Panicking, Stiles went naturally, which unfortunately happened to be his bad leg. His muscles contracted as he put pressure on his leg to pull the rest of him up, crying out as blood flow increased and he pulsed with pain. Ignoring it, Stiles forced himself up the rest of the chairs. He slid the bloody knife from where he'd put it in his pocket. The vent swung open and he looked down at Derek. "See you in a few," he said, smiling weakly, a lump forming in his throat.

Derek held fast against the door, teeth gritted and jaw set firm as he forced himself to hold it. He couldn't let go just yet. He needed Stiles to be deep in the vents or out of them and somewhere else by the time he let the hunters in. He couldn't risk letting the hunters move in and climb up to follow Stiles if he was still close by. So he kept himself braced against the door. He glanced up at Stiles when he spoke, the vent door open and Derek nodded to him, meeting his eyes for a long moment, a complicated look crossing his features before it was mostly settling on a tired one. "I'll be fine. Go," he ordered then to Stiles, lowering his gaze again.

Stiles nodded, ignoring the sinking of his heart. He pulled himself up into the vent, biting his lip hard against another scream. He left the vent open behind him, still hoping that somehow Derek would be able to follow him. He moved forward, crawling army style through the small vents. His leg wanted to kill him for putting it through this. He had no idea where to go but he just kept going forward, feeling worse and worse the further he got away from Derek. Suddenly, he heard the vent creaking underneath him. "Oh fuck," he whispered. He had hoped that the vents would be able to hold his weight. That meant if Derek had somehow followed, he would run into a similar problem much sooner. The creaking and cracking grew louder and he could hear muffled voices underneath him. Everything slowed down. Shots went off as they began firing at the ceiling at the same time it fell out from under Stiles. He felt a sharp pain in his abdomen and he looked down to see blood spreading. A look of realization crossed of his face as he laid back. He heard shouts as his hearing began going out. He saw a familiar pair of beat up sneakers. Scott. That was when he went unconscious just praying he would wake up again.

Derek heard the ceiling collapsing somewhere up ahead and he tensed up, just before the sound of fighting broke out on the other side of the door. He pulled it open to see Isaac and Allison, fighting their way through the herd of hunters and Derek moved to help them, trying to ignore the sharp pounding in his heart at the thought of Stiles having collapsed with the ceiling. Eventually they'd all managed to get out, Scott taking Stiles to the hospital, and when Derek moved to go with him Scott snarled at him and told him to head to Deaton's. He'd been shot with a wolfsbane bullet and needed that sorted before anything else. Reluctantly, he'd let Isaac take him to Deaton's, not after putting up a fight over it. Two days passed by before Derek was allowed to the leave the clinic and he'd spent most of that time passed out, and healing. When he finally came to properly, Derek was up and asking about Stiles, being informed that he was still in hospital, so Derek headed over there the moment he could.

The first thing Stiles thought when he woke up was Derek. Whether or not the older man had made it out alright. Apparently, he had gotten too worked up because they had inserted more sedative into his IV. Each time he woke up it was the same, whether he was worrying about his father or the rest of the pack, his heart beat raised too much for the nurses and Ms. McCall to feel comfortable. He had been rushed into surgery the first night, both bullets removed quickly. He'd needed a couple blood transfusions as well, but soon enough he just had to let his body take its course. They finally allowed him to remain awake after about two days. Everyone complained about how he smelled like the hospital, and they teased about how quiet it's been without him. Mostly none of them talked about Derek. Scott had let him know that he was at Deaton's, but that had been the end of that. Stiles had finally forced his father to go home and change and go to work and was now alone, since everyone else had to go to school.

It was after visiting hours, so Derek knew that he wouldn't exactly be able to just-- stroll in and ask to see Stiles. But like hell was he going to be kept outside. Scott had already told him what room Stiles was in, and then helpfully added the window he could use to reach it before shaking his head and heading home. It didn't take Derek too long to climb up and slip into Stiles' room. He was mostly healed now, after Deaton had sorted out the wolfsbane bullet before it'd gotten too bad. But his body had been exhausted, pushed ragged so he'd ended up sleeping it off for a long while, being refused to be let out whenever he stirred until Deaton was satisfied that he was okay enough to go. His eyes fell on Stiles, scanning over him, making sure he was okay-- alive. He didn't say anything for a long moment, standing in front of the window, before he was swallowing hard to clear his throat, that abruptly felt tight and dry over the fact that him not being able to protect Stiles had landed him here, and he just about managed a hoarse "Hi."

Stiles opened his eyes, turning his head towards the window. "Derek!" he exclaimed, a smile stretching across his face, "Christ, I'm glad you're okay." He winced as he sat up, the movement pulling his stitches a bit. He knew it was way past visiting hours, but it's not like he had any reason to ring for the nurses. They had just given him his medication for the night, so he knew that he would be left alone for more or less the rest of the night. "I'm really, really glad you're okay," Stiles said, his voice a little quieter, a softer smile on his face, "I can't believe I just left you behind in there. I never would've forgiven myself if you didn't get out."

Derek found himself walking over to the edge of the bed as Stiles spoke, eyes still trained on where he knew the injuries were. He glanced back up after a long moment, meeting Stiles' eyes, his frowned creased. "I'm sorry," he found himself blurting out abruptly, mostly he figured because it needed to be said. He had done a pretty shitty job of protecting Stiles back there, and had landed him with two shot wounds. "I didn't--" he started but he found himself cutting his words off for a moment longer, jaw clenched as he tried to think of something to say. "I should've protected you better," he got out after a small pause.

"You're kidding right?" Stiles said, staring at Derek only for a moment before he realized that no, he wasn't kidding. "Derek, you did everything you could for me," he said seriously, waiting for Derek to meet his eyes so he could make him understand, "You took my pain after I was concussed, you got electrocuted for me, you went quietly instead of fighting when they wanted to torture you, you held them back while I left you and climbed out through a vent. You even spooned me to stop the effects of my Adderall withdrawal." He knew that if Derek could've done anything else, he would've and to have him say he should've done more when he couldn't was unbelievable to Stiles.

Derek felt the frown lessen slightly across his mouth but it was still there, tugging downwards at his lips as he listened to Stiles talking. He brought one hand up, scrubbing it tiredly over his face, exhaling softly as he did so, trying to will some of the tension off from his shoulder and guilt from his chest before he was dropping his arm back to his side again and looking back at Stiles, meeting his eyes. "It doesn't matter," he said to him after a moment, because it didn't. "You still ended up getting shot twice. You still landed in hospital despite the fact that I was trying to look after you and failed," he said, through gritted teeth before shutting up again, really not wanting to talk about this anymore. "Are you okay?" he found himself asking, softer than before.

"I'm fine," Stiles said honestly, sensing that Derek didn't want to continue with this particular line of conversation, "Modern medicine is great." He gestured for Derek to sit down somewhere and take a load off. Deaton letting him leave had to be a sign that things were mostly okay, but he was still a little worried. Wolfsbane or not, bullets would've hurt Stiles, but Derek could've died from the poisoning. "I'm gonna have some awesome scars to show everyone," Stiles tried to lighten the mood, "Well maybe not the one of my thigh, because it's sort of on the side and high up, so that's more of a lover scar, but you know, the one on my abs is pretty fair game."

Derek moved to sit down next to Stiles' hip on the bed, being mindful not to press too close in case he caused more damage. He listened to Stile talking, and would've rolled his eyes at Stiles' comments on his scars if he didn't feel so goddamn miserable for Stiles even having scars now in the first place. He nodded to Stiles, but after a moment he felt himself relax just a fraction, Stiles' voice and heartbeat ending up having a somewhat calming effort on him. "Good luck explaining where you got that scar on your thigh to anyone who gets close enough to see it," he said back to Stiles, a half smile pulling at his mouth before it was dropping again.

"I was thinking I'd make up an awesome BAMF story like I did for the one on my ass," Stiles said with a serious look on his face, "So get this, me and Scott are like ten years old and I'm climbing a tree. Poor little asthmatic Scott is begging me to come down, puffing on his little inhaler, when my body decided to listen. I go falling, head over ass, and I land straight on this huge, sharp rock. I had to go to the hospital to get a rock out of my ass. So it gets stitched up and everything, and now I tell people that I saved an old lady from a mugger and I got into a knife fight." He could see that Derek was feeling guiltier than he had any right to and he hoped that he was helping.

Derek found himself huffing out an abrupt laugh despite himself when Stiles finished up his story. It was a worn out sort of laugh, but it was still there, and was the first proper positive sound that Derek had really made since waking up at Deaton's clinic an hour or so earlier that day. He grew quiet again after a moment, feeling a little lighter than he did before. The guilt was still there but it was like it had been placed on a back burner, not being directly focused on right now as he looked back at Stiles, wondering how the hell he'd let this kid worm in so deep with him. "So you'd tell them the mugger stabbed you in the ass?" he said to Stiles, arching an eyebrow. "I'm not really sure that's all together better than the original, But then again, it's not me you'd be telling the story to so maybe you'd get away with it," he said.

"Well, excuse me for being ten and spreading that story like wildfire," Stiles huffed, the smile on his face showing that he wasn't actually irritated, "I thought it was pretty bad ass. Hell, I was ten, I thought I was a super hero, barring the fact that it wasn't true." Stiles could remember it clearly, showing his ass to anyone who would listen. It was a rather dark spot in his childhood if he was being honest. "Obviously I don't anymore. No, that's a lover scar now, but ten year old me didn't seem to think so." He felt a little bad. His dad had had a hard time with it too. An old lady tried to have him arrested for flashing.

Derek rolled his eyes then, not at all surprised at what Stiles was saying about wanting to show off his scar with the story he'd invented up to explain why he had it. "You're ridiculous." He muttered back to Stiles, but his voice was fond and soft as he spoke, not venom behind his words anymore, not like there used to be when he talked to Stiles and he had to wonder when that had happened. He shifted slightly, falling back into quiet, gaze on Stiles' for a while, amusement still across his features as he did so.

Stiles smiled big and wide as Derek seemed to finally be acting a little more normal around him. He honestly felt like they'd become closer or something, being trapped with the hunters like they were, and Stiles might've died a little inside if Derek had acted like nothing had changed. He couldn't help himself from giving Derek a quick once over, something he hadn't had a chance to do when he first came in. He looked fine, which of course he had to be. Deaton was a miracle worker, after all. "You're just jealous of my awesome scar story," Stiles teased, looking back up at Derek's eyes.

"Is that what it is?" Derek shot back to Stiles lightly, "Jealously? I was thinking more along the lines exasperation." His hand reaching out across the bed, fingers curling round Stiles wrist before he was able to think too much about it. He could feel Stiles' pulse thrumming against his skin there, feeling it now as well as hearing it in the room, mostly doing it to remind himself that Stiles was alive and he was okay enough right now. His expression grew a little more serious, gaze dropping to his hand around Stiles' wrist, Stiles' own hands not shaking like they had been before and Derek was glad. After a pause he looked back up again, "When are you allowed out?"

"Another day or two," Stiles answered, his eyes glued to Derek's hand for a moment before he finally looked up at the other man, "It's really just observation at this point. They're gonna send me home with a pain med prescription that my dad will regulate so I don't get hooked, and I can go back to school next week. No phys ed or lacrosse for a bit though, but hey it's not like I did much in lacrosse anyway." He smiled wide, wishing he could see a similar smile from Derek, but knowing that he never had and it was doubtful that he ever would.

Derek's thumb brushed over Stiles' inner wrist distractedly for a while as he listened to Stiles' talk, stroking over the pulse point again and again just as small-- confirmation. Which was stupid really considering he had Stiles breathing and talking right in front of him right now. But it made Derek feel better and it eased the restlessness of his wolf as he did so. He nodded back to what Stiles was telling him about when he could leave. "Good," he said back to Stiles, glad that he wouldn't to be in the hospital for much longer. "I hate the smell of hospitals," he added, nose scrunching a little.

"I can't even imagine," Stiles chuckled a bit, "I mean, it smells bleached and sick well enough to my nose, it must be hell for you guys." He had never liked hospitals, even before his mom died. The atmosphere, the grief and worry, the sterilization, everything just made him want to leave. Being a werewolf and having to deal with it? Stiles didn't even want to think about something like that. "Thanks for coming to see me," Stiles said softly, more serious as he looked up at Derek, having been staring at their hands again.

He nodded back in agreement to Stiles' comment about the scent of the hospital, because yeah, Derek hated it. But when Stiles was thanking him, Derek grew silent and serious for a while. "You were the first person I wanted to see when I woke up," he admitted quietly to Stiles, before reconsidering what he'd said, feeling as though he'd been too honest here. He swallowed back on any other comments, teeth gritting a little as he turned head to the side, to face the window as he stared out a little at it, unable to find himself to want to let go of Stiles' wrist just yet, but after a moment, he let his grip slacken on him.

Stiles sat there, a little stunned by what he just heard to say or do much of anything. Until he felt Derek's grip loosen. He ripped his wrist from Derek's grasp and grabbed his wrist instead. "They told me that when I woke up, I was so frantically looking for someone they had to give me double the recommended dosage of sedative," he said quickly, keeping his grip tight, "They told me I was looking for 'Derek'." He felt it was only fair that if Derek told him that, he should tell Derek his own waking up story. He didn't really know what to say after that, what anyone says after that, but he held onto Derek, waiting for him to pull away.

Derek turned back to face Stiles when Stiles' hand was snapping out and grabbing at his own wrist then as he started to explain what'd happen to him when he'd woken up. He didn't say anything back for a while, eyes searching Stiles', the silence welling up between them as he did so. He eventually found himself shifting forwards a little towards Stiles till he was sat closer, eyes on Stiles' before they weren't anymore, lowering them. Bad idea, his mind supplied him as he did so, and he stilled for a moment, internally conflicted. But fuck, he wanted to do this. He just knew it was a shitty idea to. His breathing was shallow as he stilled, "I don't--" he started, "When I heard the ceiling crash down—Jesus, Stiles, I was fucking terrified for a while back there."

Stiles watched as Derek's eyes shifted, his body leaning closer, Stiles' own eyes darting down for barely even a second before they were up again, watching Derek's come back up to meet his. He hadn't even noticed that he'd moved not even half an inch closer to where Derek sat. What was happening? Stiles really didn't know, but he found that he really didn't care. "God, Derek I--" Stiles tried, having to pause for a second before he could even keep going, "Leaving you, I just... that was probably the hardest thing I ever did in my entire life." He knew that he would never be able to do something like that ever again. If he ever had to leave Derek or anyone behind in order to survive, Stiles knew that he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt that it would cause. He looked up at Derek, pale green eyes meeting golden brown. Stiles gave Derek’s hand a short squeeze and gave him a small smile. Something almost imperceptible had shifted between them and Stiles didn’t know what it was, but he looked forward to finding out.

**Author's Note:**

> So I hope you liked it! I was thinking about a continuation, but I don't think I can do it on my own so there probably won't be.


End file.
